The Secrets We Keep
by SassyShots
Summary: After life in Forks spirals out of control, Bella is paid a visit by one seriously stubborn Gemma Morrow. With family secrets divulged, Bella takes off for California. As she struggles to push her own secrets down into the shadows, can she adjust to the Charming life? And will she ever be able to get those icy blue eyes out of her head? Being royalty isn't all it's cracked up to be
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: ** Greetings Readers! I know that I have one other SOA piece already going, and I've already started on a few one-shots that will fall into its series, but this was something that has been knocking on my brain for a bit. I love the idea of a Bella Swan (Lily Collins)/Jax Teller story, mainly because I think she's got a bit more sass than she plays and could be great for the protective, territorial Jackson Teller. So, without further ado, here we go! Enjoy yourself!

 **Story Information:**  
 _*Rating:_ Fiction M- We're talking boys and motorcycles here, it's expected! Everything from violence and bad language to adult themes/situations.  
 _*Pairing:_ Bella/Jax  
 _*Warning!:_ Considering that this is a Crossover piece of fiction, there will be some definite AU/OOC moments and situations. I have taken some creative liberties with the SOA/Twilight-scape- mainly with the fact that the Cullens/Pack members are all human (AH)! I'm bringing Bella in around the first or second episode, Season One of SOA, BUT...that doesn't mean that all events will take place or match up, but it gives the opportunity to take it and see where it goes! There will probably be some Tara-bashing, I've never been a big fan of her, but nothing too extreme.

Support and feedback is always welcomed and encouraged! Keep any story hating or flames to yourself though please, our favorite Biker Boys are pretty trigger happy!

 ** _Disclaimer: I do not own anything SOA or Twilight related, sadly for me. It all belongs to the wonderful Kurt Sutter or Stephanie Meyer! I also do not own any recognizable/copyrighted/trademarked material that may be mentioned. I just like to play with the characters!_**

* * *

 _"In life, every ending is simply a new beginning."_

* * *

It was the sun that put a smile on her face, for the first time in what felt like ages.

The desert air was dry and while the temperature wasn't quite scorching, it was much warmer than the perpetual Washington chill back in Forks. The clouds looked fluffy, like giant cotton balls decorating the enormous expanse of clear blue sky, and it was the first time in months she had gotten a glimpse of sunlight that she didn't have to worry about disappearing behind a dense cloud cover. The warm air funneling passed the open top of the brand new, jet black Corvette she drove blew back her hair, tangling the long locks of chestnut and mahogany colored waves that fell just above the small of her back. She smiled at the sensation, rose gold tinted aviators shielding her chocolate colored eyes from the sun's vivid rays. With every mile that she put between her and her past, the sunny state of California was looking more and more like a blessed dream.

And she was determined to make sure this one came true.

No matter what it might take.

 ** _~.-.~_**

 _Her body was numb, her mind in a foggy haze as her thoughts jumped from one to the next, cutting each other off and leaving others unfinished. She could barely feel the cool drops of rain that fell on the skin left exposed by cut of her dress, the deep blackness of mourning standing out on fresh, green grass; nor could she feel the sting of the cold wind that whipped around her on the cliff-side, biting at the same skin left exposed due to her forgetfulness concerning her coat. In the back of her mind she could hear the condolences uttered to her as groups of people stalled in front of her and she could vaguely hear herself acknowledging the pointless words, but it made no matter. The only things that she really remained aware of were the ocean below them, frothy and foaming against the storm brewing out at sea, darkening the skies to a deep gray, and the white-knuckled grip she kept on the canister, no the urn, in her hands. Their empty words and looks of sympathy, of pity, didn't matter._

 _He did._

 _The death of Charlie Swan, Forks' Chief of Police, was the talk of the small town._

 _Rumors of the how's and why's concerning his untimely passing had been circulating for two weeks, referencing everything from a drifter's burglary gone wrong and a past collar's revenge to the wrath and insanity of his twenty-one year old daughter's recent ex-fiancée. The family wasn't talking and with each day's silence, the gossip mill grew a little more ridiculous than previous._

 _Isabella Swan had reached her limit._

 _She was ninety-five percent sure that if she heard one more whisper, she was start screaming and never be able to stop._

 _Her only sanctuary seemed to be on the Reservation, and even that came with limitations. Between an almost step-mother with the tendency to bake in stressful situations, her father's oldest and overly concerned best friend, and his youngest son who had apparently forgotten the long talk she had with him when she was eighteen and he was sixteen, explaining to him that she only could ever love him as a little brother…she was constantly on the verge of snapping._

 _When she wanted quiet she showed up and Sam and Leah Uley's woodsy cabin, making herself at home as she helped her near step-sister cook or enjoyed the solid, silent support of her new husband, Sam._

 _When she wanted to scream, yell, hit something, or give in to carnal pleasures that left her body weightless and her mind fuzzy as she melted into the pleasant heat of a man's body, she paid a visit to Paul Lahote's beach-side home. A fresh plate of her grandmother's secret recipe brownies and a six pack could get her just about anything she wanted from him._

 _And, when the time finally came, in the darkness of night or at three o'clock in the morning, she sought out the firm, muscled shoulder of one Embry Call. There she finally broke down, crying the rivers of tears and the chest-aching sobs that shook her entire body and left her gasping for air as he muttered soft, soothing words against her ear. He held her tightly, kept her anchored as he let her know that, despite all she had lost, there was still someone there._

 _Still, Bella felt as if she was suffocating, the world closing in on her slowly and leaving her no room to simply…breathe._

" _Bella, sweetie?"_

 _Couldn't they all just…stop?_

 _Stop talking to her, stop looking at her like that, stop staring at her as if she would lose her fucking mind any second?!_

" _Isabella?"_

 _The cool touch at her elbow shook her from her desperate thoughts and her eyes snapped up the next second, her body immediately jerking away from the sight in front of her, without her permission, as if she had been scalded. Her jaw clenched and her spine straightened in a defensive posture, her wary eyes darting around her to find all those who could rescue her from her current predicament were busy, unaware._

" _Mrs. Cullen," She gave a curt nod in greeting, forced politeness._

" _Please dear," The woman chided, clasping her gloved hands in front of her designer skirt. "There's no need for that, it's still Esme to you."_

 _Bella nearly snarled in response._

 _Her upper lip threatened to curl back in a malicious sneer, the anger roiling in her gut igniting a fire that burned through her very blood as she grappled with control with herself. She forced it down, acutely aware of their audience because, while her allies were all currently occupied, plenty of Forks Washington's finest were watching the confrontation with excitement, eager for any hint that could give truth to their musings._

" _Esme," Bella gritted out, fixing a plastic smile to her face, though she lowered her voice as she snapped. "What the hell are you doing here?"_

 _Displeasure flashed across the elder woman's features before she quickly stowed it away, fixing her expression to one of concern and motherly love._

" _You haven't taken any of the family's calls and you have yet to cash your check," Esme murmured, making sure to keep her tone low enough that their words stayed between them. "Carlisle and I were becoming…worried."_

 _Righteous fury whipped through her, leaving her body trembling as she locked her knees and gripped the urn in her hands that much tighter. Her hands itched to set it aside, reach toward the woman in front of her and wrap them around her dainty throat as she choked the very life from her body…but she could do no such thing. So, with fire flashing in her eyes and her nails digging into her skin where her hands overlapped on the cold metal, she hissed._

" _I want nothing to do with your blood money!"_

 _Esme scoffed, though somehow managed to keep up her polite façade. "We only wish to support you during your tragedy, we understand how distraught-_

" _You understand nothing! You vile, horrible-"_

 _The older woman's small hand darted out, grasping Bella's wrist with such a fierce grip that the girl was sure she would snap it. Her bones ground together in protest as she let out a small gasp, taking notice that Esme's concerned expression was long gone, replaced with one of contempt, though it remained hidden from passerby under the brim of her hat._

" _You forget your place, Isabella! You will take the money and do as I say or-"_

" _Is there a problem here?"_

 ** _~.-.~_**

Pulling into the lot of Teller-Morrow Automotive Repair was…not what she expected.

Knowing full well that it was an auto repair shop that specialized in motorcycles, she had been prepared to see plenty of cars, trucks, and bikes that were there for their check-ups. What she hadn't been prepared for was the sheer amount of people milling around the concrete castle. Workers hidden beneath vehicles and leaning underneath hoods of cars she expected, but the men walking around in black leather vests that looked like they could kill her with a flick of the wrist and the odd skinny chick with no meat on her bones and even less clothing?

Not what she expected at all.

The purr of her Corvette's engine did not go unnoticed, drawing attention from those (seriously, _what_ was up with all the vests?!) who were lounging on a few wooden picnic tables scattered across the lot and a few who perched on motorcycles that had been backed up into a line against the railing of what she guessed was a loading dock. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel and she kept her eyes forward, refusing to give into the insecurities and self-consciousness she hadn't felt when moving to a new place since she was fifteen and her father had told her she would have to leave her little bubble at the Reservation school in La Push, enrolling her for her freshman year at Forks High.

 _Charlie…_

No.

She shook her head, guiding herself into a free space next to a familiar Cadillac XLR, and a small smile tugged her lips upwards as she cut the engine, popping her door open in the process.

She'd made it.

Rising from her seat, she stepped from the car and took her first real look around her, taking stock of her surroundings. To her right sat a three bay garage painted in light blues and grays, filled with all things mechanical that she'd more than likely end up hurting herself with if she even tried, and it ended with what seemed to be a small office on the far left side. From there, a back lot could be seen before she turned her head, her eyes tracing along the line of bikes against the loading dock that led to another metal building, though this one was much larger with what looked like possibly a second level and followed the length of the drive all the way back to the street. Bella's eyes lingered on the strange insignia, a skeleton reaper with a scythe that was made out of an M-16 (she was pretty sure, if her squinting was doing her any good), and her eyebrows furrowed.

Motorcycle enthusiasts… _right_.

"S'cuse me lassie?"

Bella whipped back around, her eyes widening when she noticed how the taller man had managed to sneak up on her, now standing less than two feet from her. She craned her neck up a bit to take him in; salt and pepper hair that was styled messily, rugged features that were accented with a pair of scars that ran from the corners of his mouth back across his cheeks, and eyes that were hidden behind a pair of narrow-lensed sunglasses. He seemed to be in his forties she guessed, and the Scottish accent was enough to bring a smile to her face.

"Lass?"

She blinked herself from her blatant staring, fighting back a blush that tinged her cheeks a faint pink when she took note of the smirk on his lips, a clear sign he had definitely noticed.

"Bella." She coughed, throwing her hand out toward him.

He grinned, a bit cautiously, as he took her much smaller one into his and gave it a gentle shake. "What can we do fer ye' Miss. Bella?"

"I'm looking for Gemma Morrow?"

She didn't miss the way he stood up a little straighter, his smile freezing in place, and if she could actually see his eyes, she had no doubt that they would have been sweeping over her. Appraising her. He gave a short, curt nod as he turned on his heel, gesturing with his arm toward the office before waiting to fall in-step alongside her.

"What business do 'ye have with our Gem-"

He was cut off by a loud exclamation, something between a bit of a squeal and a laugh that was quite unusual for the woman who had thrown open the door to the garage's office, metal meeting metal with a startling bang. Gemma Teller-Morrow stepped out dressed to the nines in tight jeans that hugged her ass, a black button down complete with a wide belt underneath her breasts, and high-heeled boots that clicked as she hurriedly made her way across the pavement.

"Babygirl!" She cooed, opening her arms wide. "Get your ass over here!"

Bella laughed, turning a blind-eye to the now curious gazes of the men standing up from their seats at the outside tables as she half-jogged toward the older woman, her own cowboy boots echoing the clicking sounds Gemma's had made before. Without preamble, she threw herself into the woman's embrace, taking a deep breath as every muscle in her body that had been tense after leaving the city limit signs finally relaxed.

Two weeks.

It had been only two weeks since she met Gemma, and she was already more important than any other mother figure she had ever known. Despite being intimidated upon their first meeting, she had immediately been indebted to her for getting her out of a sticky situation, and that only increased when she opened Bella's eyes to new information, things she had never known about herself.

And given her a one-way ticket out of Washington.

"How was the drive?" Gemma asked, pulling back so that she could look Bella over.

The girl seemed to have put a few (much-needed) pounds on since the last time they had seen each other (per Gemma's strict orders), and her eyes had lost their haunted look that had taken Gemma's breath away the first time she had peered into them. The pain was still there, followed closely by a bit of darkness and loss, but it was nothing like they had been before.

"Wasn't half-bad." Bella shrugged, flashing her a grin. "Did you hear the way my new baby purrs?"

Gemma smirked, giving a small shake of her head. "Yeah baby, I heard that."

Both women were completely oblivious to the crowd of bikers that slowly began to close in around them, circling the embracing duo as they continued to chat while each of them looked on with curious eyes, muttering to each other as they asked if anyone knew the new girl. Though a few thought she held some vaguely familiar features, none were able to outright place her, leaving the curiosity over her presence to grow.

"Ma?"

The deep, smooth voice halted her mid-sentence.

She slowly turned her head, and the breath in her lungs hitched so intensely that she was left almost choking on the air. Her eyes widened comically as she took him in, sweeping from head to toe and back again almost involuntarily. It made her more than thankful for the sunglasses she still wore. He stood around six-two, maybe six-three, and had a broad frame that had been filled out with muscle that was so defined; she could still catch sight of it even with the baggy shirt and leather vest. His hair reminded her of cornsilk, and it hung in locks of medium length, just long enough to brush his shoulders. It was paired with unbelievably blue eyes, leaving her to debate between cobalt and ice to describe the hue. His features were chiseled, sharp, strong, and he had just the faintest bit of blonde scruff over his chin and jaw.

 _Beautiful_ , she thought to herself, _and completely out of my league._

"Who's this?"

Gemma tossed an arm around her arm around Bella's waist, biting back the smirk that threatened her lips after watching the younger girl nearly swoon over her son. She hadn't even been on the lot ten minutes and already, Gemma's plan for pushing the girl toward her son was taking shape, if her inability to look anywhere else had been any indication.

"Boys, meet Isabella Swan."

There was immediate chaos as questions were stuttered or shouted rapidly, the news obviously catching them off guard in a way that Bella still didn't quite understand. It mattered very little, really, she decided. As her eyes trailed over the expressive group, lingering on the blonde god she had been ogling before and Gemma's strong and defiant form, there was only one thought that came to mind.

New and unsure as it was…this was home.


	2. One

**Author's Note:** Wow! I cannot believe how much excitement and support this little fluke of an idea has created! I am so happy and pleased that so many of you have enjoyed the first bit of the story! I had originally just intended a one-shot, but I think I'm upgrading to a full story with this one. It wasn't what I had planned, but I've gotten so many reviews, favorites, follows, and messages about this story that I can't help myself! At first I was really worried, there aren't many Jax/Bella pairings available for reading on the site but apparently it's a well loved pairing, so I'll be keeping it up. Sorry if this chapter seems a bit short, but we're going to be getting to the good stuff soon. Plus, you all wanted some background so there's a bit of that for pondering!

 ** _*Lookie here!-_** I'm setting this as AU ages according to canon, so while Jax and Bella have the same actual birthdays as canon description, the events and their ages don't match up exactly with the novels/movies/tv series. Bella is 21, and Jax is 28.

*This has been edited a bit, and condensed from two chapters to one! I've also removed the Pack preview, for now. Don't worry, you'll see them again! (;

Support and feedback is always welcomed and encouraged! Keep any story hating or flames to yourself though please, our favorite Biker Boys are pretty trigger happy!

 _ **Disclaimer: Please see beginning!**_

* * *

 _"Every man needs a woman when his life is a mess. Because, just like in a game of chess, the Queen protects her King."  
_ **-One-**

* * *

 _ **Present**_  
 _ **Teller-Morrow Auto/Redwood Original Clubhouse**_  
 _ **Charming, California, USA-**_

Isabella Swan.

Through the pure mayhem that just the simple mention of her name produced, Bella was able to escape the crowd of rugged, leather-wearing men, thanks to Gemma's eye for escape routes and firm grip on her hand. They easily clicked their way across the concrete lot's pavement and pushed through a heavy metal door long before any of the distracted bikers would take notice of their absence. Darkness enveloped her for a moment and she blinked a few times to adjust her vision to the more subdued lighting before pushing her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head, the arms of the lenses rearranging her hair behind her ears aside from the fluff of her bangs and a few stray pieces.

Her eyebrows nearly rose to her hairline when she finally got her first real look at her surroundings.

Gemma had abandoned her grip after pulling her halfway into the open front room, quickly approaching one of two men situated at a glossed and shiny bar top. It left Bella to her own devices, her chocolate brown eyes drifting over every inch available to see greedily. There were multiple couches and chairs, some lower down to the ground and more broken in than others, and low side and coffee tables accompanied them, every inch of surface space almost covered in ashtrays, car and bike magazines, leftover beer bottles and what she was _pretty_ certain was porn. Her lips twitched in amusement, the low tones of a conversation going on between the three people behind her the only thing keeping the giggle that bubbled up in her throat, stuck there.

Plenty of regular tables were spaced throughout the room, surrounded by two or three chairs, or sometimes even club stools. There was a room to her left that was closed off from the lounge, a long wooden table hidden behind padded double doors that she got a tiny glimpse of through the blinds left open in the few windows spaced around it. A wall of mugshots was next on the list, and she bit her lip to smother her squeak, Gemma's reminder that things were much different than they seemed echoing through her mind once more. She stared, transfixed, before shaking her head quickly and slipping passed them.

Time to move on.

After all, who was she to judge?

To her right was the bar Gemma and the two men stood beside, formed in an 'L' shape, and fully stocked with bottle upon bottle of every brand of alcohol she knew…and then some, just for good measure. Wood paneling covered the walls behind it, giving way to either dark red or a beige-gray colored paint. Almost every inch of walling around the bar and along the hallway was left covered in photos, scraps of memorabilia, or pictures; and it was those that distracted her.

She was walking toward them before she even gave it a second thought.

Both framed and simply taped to the wall, they were tacked all across the expanse behind the bar and the archway into a full kitchen, where she was standing. Some were old, some a bit newer, and some were from more recent years. Old black and white photos were mixed with the lighter colors of sepia or the more vibrant colors of present day film and digital prints. Bella swallowed her giggles when her eyes crossed a picture of a tan boy, his head inked with tattoos, holding up a helmet in front of his naked self as he streaked through the auto shop's parking lot, and she beamed brightly when she recognized a picture of a much younger Gemma, perched on the back of a motorcycle with another man, looking no less badass than she did earlier that day.

But it was a glimpse of icy blue eyes that left Bella almost frozen.

Sitting astride a motorcycle with a large toothless grin and who she could only guess was his father at his back to hold him steady, his golden strands about half the length they were now with his limbs much ganglier as he stood at about thirteen and covered in grease from head to toe, a much more filled out and muscular version of himself proudly holding up one of those damn black vests alongside another boy she couldn't help but compare to a giant, though this one sported _'prospect'_ instead of the emblem she had seen outside; they continued on and on, filling out the wall with many others. It gave her a tiny peek into his life and she felt almost like a voyeur as she quickly soaked in every detail available, greedily.

He made her feel like her heart was stopping and yet thundering all at once, as if she would spontaneously combust, even though his piercing gaze had only been captured on film.

 _She didn't even know his name_!

It was a fact that had her almost choking once Bella's eyes skimmed over the next photo in line.

Her breath hitched in her chest before starting again in rapid pants and she knew without even having to look in the mirror that her eyes had widened almost comically.

Unconsciously, she lifted her hand to caress the image, unable to hold back the tremor that left her fingers shaking against the printed image.

The glacier blue eyes that stared back at her belonged to him when he couldn't have been more than nine, perhaps ten years old, his hair fluffing in the breeze as he shook it from his eyes. Instead of being distracted by whoever controlled the lens as they attempted to gain his attention, it was all focused on the small toddler in front of him. She was balanced precariously on the tips of her toes, reaching up toward him eagerly with a toothy smile while an easy grin stretched over his lips in return; it was almost reminiscent of the smirk he had sported only minutes before. His hands were already reaching down for her when the photographer had taken the photo, the tiny girl's chocolate colored eyes beaming into his and her mahogany locks of hair blowing in the wind. They were completely oblivious to their onlooker behind them, a tall man with dark eyes and black hair that was lacking the sprinkling of salt and pepper she had come to know in the last few years, ever diligent in his over-protectiveness.

Bella's eyes stung dangerously, the lump in her throat making it hard to breathe.

Her fingertips gently curled around the smooth edges, carefully prying the moment captured in time from the red wall where she hovered by the entrance to the kitchen she had spied. She cradled the image to her chest, unable to blink even as she gaped at the strong form of the man and the tiny child, one with overly familiar eyes, disbelievingly.

They were the same pair she met in the mirror each and every morning.

She must have made some noise, something to alert those around her to the distress in her body as she took a shaky step backward, stumbling under the weight her seemingly boneless leg took on before squeezing her eyes shut in preparation to make her acquaintance with the dark flooring. Embarrassment was already flooding her cheeks a light pink color as she waited for the impact, loathing that her well-suppressed clumsiness chose such a moment to rear its ugly head.

Only she never hit the ground.

A warm hand, large and slightly roughened with callouses spread out across the small of her back, the gentle heat sending a shiver trailing up her spine through the thin material of her blouse. Another hand, its partner she was sure, curled around her forearm in a soft but steadying grip, keeping her upright easily, as if she weighed nothing to him at all. A small gasp tore from her throat and her eyes blinked open quickly, the film of unshed tears gathering along her lid and wetting her eyelashes, making her look even more doe-eyed than she already was. Her grateful words of thanks stuck in her throat, unable to free themselves through the lump there as chocolate met bright blue, the distance small enough that she was able to take note of the gentle gray and silver fringe around the edges of his irises.

She doubted that she would ever forget the first words he spoke directly to her.

The smooth, honeyed tone left her inexplicably breathless and even weaker in the knees.

"You alright darlin'?"

* * *

 _ **September 13th, 1991**  
 **Teller-Morrow Residence**  
 **Charming, California, USA-**  
_

She watched them from behind the camera.

The little girl's laughter rang out around them in the yard, high-pitched and gleeful as she was swung through the air, completely safe in the strong grip of her ten year-old son. She was entirely unaware of the madness around her, the pain and suffering that was oozing through her extended family, and even though the boy was plenty old enough to understand he acted as if there wasn't a single thing wrong in the world. He swung her high and dipped her low, his grin lighting up his own face as she giggled and tucked her head into his shoulder. Her little fingers managed to leave slightly sticky trails on his shirtfront as a consequence to being given her own cupcake without supervision, but he didn't seem to care.

He just wanted her to smile.

It was her third birthday after all.

She sighed, leaning on one hip as she sat the almost full camera to the side and pulled out a cigarette, flicking her lighter before inhaling greedily. Her ever-watchful eyes took in the almost lanky form that shadowed them, fresh out of the police academy and entirely over-worried, almost flustered as he monitored the two children.

The sight nearly made her snort aloud.

She worried her bottom lip though when another squeal of girly laughter, quickly followed by the deeper tones of her son followed, and a small crack in her usual mask appeared, displaying her worry for any who were quick enough to notice. It wasn't many.

How the hell was she going to tell him?

It was bad enough that most of the Club was constantly on edge with the imminent war, the thick tension something that proved almost impossible to hide from the older kids. But after the loss of Thomas, her son had grown extremely protective, hardly letting the adorable toddler out of his sight. He was always looking after the girl, checking to make sure that she was happy and entertained; spoiling her rotten in a way that made the older woman wonder- if it were ten or fifteen years down the road instead, how long would it be before a new crow was being inked on the unblemished skin of an Old Lady? They were practically attached at the hip; she almost had to pry their fingers apart when the two zonked out on the living room floor at bedtime just to separate them for god's sakes!

And now, she was just going to be taken away?

The two of them would be crushed.

Isabella Swan might not be family by blood, but she was damn sure that little girl's mother, and now she was going to be taken hundreds of miles up the west coast, not even knowing when they would be able to see her again. She might be young, but she was old enough to have recognized them in her life, and that piece of the puzzle would always be missing for her until she returned. Always hurting, longing for something she didn't quite understand…

And if there was one thing that Gemma Teller absolutely hated, it was seeing one of her babies hurt.

The approach of Charlie Swan's lanky form cut off her inner-ramblings, her teeth sinking sharply into her tongue to hold back the sneer she desperately wanted to lay on the younger adult.

"Officer Friendly." She snipped, unable to remain completely well-behaved.

A few rumbling chuckles echoed behind her, letting her know that the gathered members of the Club were more than aware of her grievous struggles.

"Gemma." He intoned, keeping a straight face.

Her lip nearly curled.

They watched the two children in silence; one desperately trying to understand how in the hell he had become a parent in a single fateful day and overnight, while the other was busy trying her best to keep her face emotionless so that no one knew just how badly her heart was breaking.

"Are…a-are you," She took in a sharp breath, swallowing through the lump in her throat. "Are you sure this is what's best? You're taking away her family Charles, we are her family."

His dark eyes flitted to the uncharacteristically trembling woman, a pang of guilt seeping into his soul and tainting his blood as he cataloged each of her ticks, comparing them to the day little Thomas' heart finally gave out.

They weren't so dissimilar.

He clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut as he turned away, only to blink them open again as they landed on the tiny little girl. Her flowery dress was a bit stained, her long locks of gentle curls wild in the breeze, and her chocolate colored eyes sparkled happily in the sunlight. He nodded his head once, never taking his eyes from her form. He was her protector now, he was in charge of doing what was best for her, and the last thing she needed was to stay in a town where bullets and blood reigned supreme.

"I'm sure Gemma," He muttered, wincing when her deadly glare pierced the side of his neck, the woman could be downright frightening.

It was a Charming day.

A charming day, in a charming town, stuffed full of charming people.

Who were completely unaware of the blood and tears that flooded its simple streets, or the front yard that was suddenly pitched into chaos, the shouts of a young boy and the screams of a small girl echoing through the neighborhood while one was forcibly held back and the other driven far, far away.

Charming town, indeed.

* * *

 _ **Present**_  
 _ **Teller-Morrow Auto/Redwood Original Clubhouse**_  
 _ **Charming, California, USA-**_

He knew his mother thought she was being slick.

She wasn't though.

The moment the guys around him erupted into questions and demands after the mere second-long pause that followed the pretty brunette's name, she had latched onto the slip of a thing and towed her in the direction of the Clubhouse, using the distraction to steal her away unnoticed. Her plan would have worked well enough, if Jackson Teller wasn't completely frozen where he stood, his striking blue eyes blown wide and turned to an immovable force as he stared at the girl his mother hauled away.

He couldn't believe it was her.

It was the quiet purr of her car engine that had captured his attentions first as he glanced up from where he had been lazily sprawled across the outdoor picnic tables, but once the door swung open and a pair of long creamy legs popped out, he had been utterly captivated.

His blue eyes had followed the length of them, from the tan boots that reached up her calves all the way up, caressing the peek of her thighs he was given before they were hidden underneath the peach colored lace that decorated the hem of her dress. They roamed over a pair of flared hips and slightly smaller waist, a quiet groan resonating through his chest when the idea that he could grab her with both hands and have them nearly meet crossed his mind. Up and up, his eyes traveled, dimly aware that Chibs had been the lucky bastard to make it to the newcomer first, much to Juice and Tig's irritation. He cataloged the smooth skin of her shoulders and collarbone left bare by the thin straps of her dress; all that long hair that spilled down her back, her chest that gave the impression of a good handful- something that had him shifting restlessly. He was aching for a chance to get a look at the eyes that remained hidden behind her sunglasses, barely noticing how he had managed to wander closer with his fellow brothers, curiosity brimming higher with each step.

His mother's warm greeting had shocked him to stillness, their familiarity with each other pushing both his curiosity and confusion to new levels- and he wasn't the only one. They muttered between each other, questioning if any had a clue to the girl's identity and their lack of information was too much for Jax. Something pulled in his chest as he took in the girl's warm, blinding smile, though the tinge of sadness she attempted to keep smothered lingered still.

 _Knowing_ her, it was something he had to do.

So he asked.

And the moment his mother uttered her name, _that name_ , the one that hadn't been spoken in years for the fear of both the heartache and fury it would bring, his world stopped.

Isabella Swan.

Jax remembered her, _of course_ he remembered her.

He remembered the excitement of her arrival, how his mother had practically stolen her for her own. He remembered those wide, sparkling brown eyes that had peered up at him and his younger brother in childish curiosity, tugging at his already long blonde hair that dangled in front of her face. He remembered the way he and Tommy had taken on the roles of protector, never complaining over the toddler's presence. He remembered the vow he had made to himself when Thomas died; that he would never let her out of sight, never let her be unhappy, never let her experience pain.

But then the Mayan War had broken out, blood and death roaming the streets, tainting their lives. It had taken _one_ day, just one horrific day to alter the course of everything, forever.

The old anger still pulsed through his veins, throbbing low in his gut with the blackest of fury when he remembered the day she had been ripped from him. Her uncle had breezed in, hardly listening to a word that was said before stealing her away. When he actually let himself remember, something that he didn't dare to do often, he could still hear the way she screamed his name, thrashing in Charlie Swan's hold. He could still feel the weight of his father's and Clay's hands on him, holding him back from her as his mother tried to talk him down.

He remembered _everything_.

So of course Jax remembered _her_.

And now he was gifted with the answer to why he had experienced such a niggling familiarity, almost like deja-vu as she walked toward them, guided by his mother. If her eyes had been free for the viewing, he doubted he would have needed Gemma to introduce her in the first place.

Those brown eyes had haunted him for eighteen years.

Jax left his brothers behind, breaking out into a loping jog as he covered the distance from where he had been standing in the parking lot to the Clubhouse. He wrapped his fingers around the door handle and gave it a strong tug, blinking against the harsh change in lighting from bright sunlight to the dimness of indoors. His gaze honed in on her petite form immediately, finding her lingering near the kitchen as she peered at the many photos that had been tacked up for display. An involuntary smirk curled the edges of his lips as he slowly, silently paced his way toward her- he knew exactly what she was looking at.

Him.

That expanse of wall was particularly heavy in documenting all things Jackson Teller, everything from his first ride on his father's bike, buying his first bike, his and Opie's prospecting years, to his most recent rise to Vice President of SAMCRO's Redwood Original. There was also a special picture among the lot, one that he both loved and hated to look at as he made his way down the hallway to the Clubhouse dorms. It always left him with a small smile, yet a deep longing within his chest. A pretty little girl, with pretty sparkling brown eyes, clothed in a pretty little dress and reaching out with her pretty little arms for him.

 _Isabella Swan._

Jax expected her to be bursting with questions once she paused in front of the old picture, carefully taking it from its position to get a closer look. Maybe to spin around with wide eyes and a surprised expression, possibly even let out a gasp.

What he did _not_ expect, was for her to nearly faint into his arms.

He had snuck up behind her, less than a foot of space between his chest and her back as he looked over her shoulder at the four by six she cradled protectively, a fond smile lifting his lips. Jax had been so focused on breathing her in, the faint smell of honeysuckle and something that appealed to the primal male within him, the urge to wrap her in his arms nearly stifling- he hadn't taken notice of her rapid breaths and trembling limbs.

It was the high-pitched noise that escaped her throat which broke through his thoughts. A cross between a whimper and wail, she stumbled backward, her free hand searching desperately for support so that she wouldn't tumble to the floor.

He gave it to her.

Instinct kicked in and he threw his arms out, his breath hitching in his lungs as he spun her in toward his chest, one hand sliding across the soft fabric of her dress at the small of her back and the other slipping along her forearm to gently grasp her elbow. Years separated them, but the silky smoothness of her skin meeting his was like coming home. Jax pulled her into him by the hold on her back, tipping his head down and silently urging her to look up at him so that he could take in those gorgeous brown eyes of hers finally, after so long apart. He mentally berated himself as her nearness caused a reaction he refused to acknowledge, pushing away the thought of the tightness in jeans as her soft abdomen brushed across his belt buckle and her breasts pressed against his chest.

 _Not while she's damn near fucking crying, jackass._

Which begged the question, why?

"You alright darlin'?"

Bella blinked up at him, her eyes widened to nearly unbelievable extremes and her lips parted in a dazed expression that he would usually enjoy, only this time he wasn't entirely sure if it was because of him or because of the picture she clutched, almost as if her life depended on it. She gestured to it soundlessly, eyes still too wide to be healthy and utterly imploring as her lips opened and closed, not a single sound passing through them. Jax took the moment to glance at the photo that she held protectively, careful not to bed the edges or scratch the image. A small smile curled his lips as he looked; first at it, and then back to her, his warm hand flexing its hold on the small of her back- pulling her infinitesimally closer to him.

She just looked so small, lost and confused.

Jax could almost silently understand her as she peered up at him through those thick, ebony lashes that lined her eyes, slightly glossed with a film of unshed tears. He couldn't explain the soothing sound that escaped his throat as one hand reached up to cradle her head in comfort, cupping the nape of her neck as he rubbed the pad of his thumb into the tendons there, stiff with tension and anxiety.

She wanted to know why he wasn't surprised, why the picture didn't catch him off guard like it did her.

How could she know that there was a second copy, safely tucked away behind the glass of a frame to preserve it for all time and hidden away in his top drawer? She couldn't know that he only pulled it out when the dark pit threatened to consume him, when he felt like he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer, when the life he led became too much. She didn't know that he would take it out, the image both comforting and heartbreaking all at once, so that he could lean back against his headboard and stare at it for hours on end, imagining where his life would be if things had gone differently.

"I know you...?"

Bella's voice cracked as she spoke, the tone a bit squeaky, like she was forcing it through her throat.

Despite the attempt at a statement, it trailed off into a question at the end, the uncertainty stripping the confident words of their power. Jax found his blue eyes leaving the small cut out of their younger years and returning to her darker colored orbs, trying and failing to capture every emotion that flickered three. Confusion dominated most, but suddenly they seemed to flare, a fire of steely determination lit within as her head snapped to the side, seeking out the one person she really knew.

The one that had rescued her, guided her to this little town so that she could start over fresh again.

"And I want to know _how_."

* * *

 _All mistakes are my own, no Beta at this time! If something drives you crazy, let me know! :D_


	3. Two

**Author's Note:** It's been forever, and I apologize profusely! My muse kind of took a nap on this one, but was awakened once more by my absolutely wonderful new writing bestie, **_ChildOfDivinity_**. She told me this was one of her favorites, so I've been hard at work ever since! I hope that you all enjoy the newest chapter! This one is a bit short, but it's just a prelude to the next chapter, which will really get down into some Jax/Bella time! Shipping names, anyone?  
 _-Side Note:_ I've combined chapter two and three to make one, just so you know!

 **Reviews:** Thank you so much for them, especially for those of you who have stuck around and continued supporting this story through my downtime! I'll be responding to reviews, answering those of you with accounts through PM's, like I am in my other stories. For those who review on Guest or have blocked PM's to their accounts, I'll continue answering them at the bottom of the chapter! :D

Support and feedback are both welcomed and encouraged, always! Please keep all story hate and flames to yourself, however. Our favorite Bikers are trigger-happy after all!

 ** _Disclaimer: Please see beginning!_**

* * *

 **-Two-**

* * *

 _ **Years Previously**_  
 _ **Swan Residence**_  
 _ **Forks, Washington, USA-**_

Pencils scribbled across notebook paper and the tapping of keys on a laptop keyboard could be heard, echoing throughout the tranquil air of the Swan Household. The radio had been turned on low, quietly spilling out tunes and hits from an oldies station, and the small four-seater kitchen table looked as if a library had thrown up on it. The circular tabletop was covered completely, every inch taken over by piles of scratch paper, stacks of weathered tomes, old family files with birth certificates in them, along with stray pens and pencils of all colors. Last, but certainly not least, was the petite form of one Isabella Swan, who had just entered her sophomore year of high school and was fretting over her first big project of the fall semester.

The book she was holding smacked against the surface of the table, jostling her work, not that she particularly cared. Her milk chocolate colored orbs pinched at the edges as she glared down at her notebook, her pretty plump lips curling up in a slight sneer of disdain while she grumbled lowly.

It wasn't fair.

All around her, friends and classmates were discovering all kinds of fun tidbits and hidden discoveries about their family lineage, all as part of the genealogy project they had been assigned. Jasper Whitlock had traced his family line all the way back to the Civil War, finding out that the grandfather he had been named after was one of the youngest Major's in the history of the Confederate Army. He had gone missing near Galveston, never to be heard from again. Angela Weber was able to write out a family history of the Weber men, each had taken up some kind of religious position, spreading the Gospel all the way back across the Atlantic. She found out that one of her family members had even once been the personal priest to royalty in France. Ben was able to find out that his family had moved from the Eastern Coast to the California area during the Gold Rush in the eighteen hundreds. After ending up quite successful, unlike many families, the Cheney's moved to Washington State and settled in Forks. They'd been there ever since.

The Swan Family Tree was...pathetically mundane.

Bella had grilled her father six ways to Sunday over their family history, and his story never changed.

He had no siblings, which meant she had no cousins. Granpop and Nana Swan each were only children from what she could tell, so there were no new branches to explore that way. It was a straight line of seemingly unassuming people and pasts. Her mother's side wasn't much better from what she could discern, after breaking away from her parents as a teenager when she had become involved with Charlie Swan. And she wasn't there to contradict what Bella had managed to dig up, considering she had passed away when the brunette was a teeny toddler, a brain aneurysm, her father said. She had wanted to ask him more, but the way his dark brown eyes had turned almost black with pain, she decided it was a subject best left alone.

She sighed, her face slumping into the palm of her hand as she rested her elbow on the table.

"Hey slugger," Her father's gruff voice echoed in the room as he stomped in, fingers immediately finding her gently curled locks and ruffling them. "How's the project coming along?"

Bella huffed quietly, sending him a narrow-eyed look that Charlie couldn't help but chuckle at.

"It's not funny, Dad!" She whined quietly, pouting at the papers in front of her. "What is wrong with our family? Are we all just destined to be boring?"

The sixteen-year old missed the way her father stiffened as he stood in front of the open refrigerator, mouth watering at the sight of leftover fish fry she had cooked the night before, a cold beer in his hand. His mustache twitched over his lip, and the Chief of Police badge on his chest that he normally wore with pride, seemed to almost burn through the material of his uniform, searing his skin. It was times like these, when Bella thought their family was made of quiet and simple smalltown people, when she turned her head to the side and the profile of her jaw and cheekbone looked like the carbon copy of one he had grown up seeing, only with a feminine cut to it. Charlie Swan wondered if what he had done, the decisions he had made, were the right ones.

But then he would remember the sorrow of that day, the grief that had weighed down on all of them, the way it so easily could have been her instead. It reminded him that it had been for her own good, for her safety, her protection.

That didn't mean he couldn't throw her a small bone, though. It worried him, if she dug far enough it could unravel everything he had worked to hide. But he couldn't stand to see her so let down, when she had previously been so excited to learn about their family days before. This would give her just a little something.

"Why don't you try Molly Ateara, kiddo?" He suggested, almost innocently.

Bella's head snapped up on her shoulders, her eyes wide and obviously confused. "Ateara, like down on the Reservation with the guys? What good would that do?"

Charlie smirked lightly, his mustache twitching upward with the curve of his lips.

"Because, before she was an Ateara, she was a Swan."

* * *

 _ **Present  
**_ _ **Teller-Morrow Auto/Redwood Original Clubhouse**_  
 _ **Charming, California, USA-**_

It was quiet.

No, not quiet, because quiet implied that you could hear the faint sound of breathing throughout the room, or the background noise of the bar right outside the heavy oaken, double doors that had been closed behind her as she had cautiously made her way inside the obviously sacred room, some fifteen minutes before. No, this was silence. She couldn't hear a noise coming from the two other men in the room, from Gemma who sat directly across from her, eyes clouded with tears that she refused to let fall. She couldn't hear a sound coming from the blonde Adonis at her side, his palm resting heavily, but also comfortably, on her thigh. Hell, she couldn't even hear her own breath, despite the fact that her chest rose and fell rapidly.

There was only a dull ringing in her ears, chocolate brown eyes glued and unblinking on the picture resting on the hand-crafted table in front of her.

 _No, they're lying..this is some sick joke, it can't be real, everything I know can't just be-_

As if he could hear her, Jackson tightened his grip on her thigh, his skin nearly burning hers through the thin material of her peach-colored undress, slowly the chaotic swirl of thoughts in her mind. It was an enjoyable burn, however, sending ripples of pleasure through the sensitive skin and up along the length of her spine. Her eyes flashed up to his, finding him already staring at her, the vibrant blue waiting to capture her own chocolate gaze. They softened then, reflecting a familiarity that she couldn't explain but could not deny, and the sympathy that they held only proved the gruff, older man's words to be true.

Everything she had ever known, was a lie.

"S-So," Bella croaked out, cringing when her voice sounded scratchy, broken. She cleared her throat and took a deep breath in, gathering strength from the hand on her leg that was keeping her mind grounded. "So, you're telling me that my father, who just died by the way, wasn't really my father. Oh, and that my real father, who I can't even remember, is dead. Is that right?"

The gray-headed man peering at her from the head of the table through a small cloud of cigar smoke, closed his eyes slowly, giving a slow nod. Her breath seemed to catch in her lungs, his gentle confirmation the last thing she needed to believe. The story from Gemma while she had been in Washington, the look in Jackson's soul-touching blue eyes, the picture gripped carefully in her fingers. It had all pointed to the ugly truth the spilt before her, or part of it at least. She wasn't stupid, she knew there was more. But Bella had needed him to nod his head, to blatantly tell her that all she had grown up knowing was a lie.

Swan wasn't even her last name.

"And, I have an Uncle here? Cousins?" She whispered, tear-glazed eyes turning to Gemma. "You're telling me, if things had been different, I'd have grown up here? With all of you?"

The older brunette patted her hand soothingly, fingers stroking along her palm. "Yeah baby, you would've grown up here. That's why I came for you. You're family."

Bella sucked in a sharp breath, the urge to jerk backward from such a declaration one that was hard to stifle. Despite feeling inexplicably comfortable around both Gemma and her son, it was still a bit much to grasp. She had known the moment she had realized what she was holding in her hand in the picture, from the way that Jackson had pressed his big hand into the small of her back and guided her forward into a brown leather chair, from the way the gray-haired man (Clay, she reminded herself) looked at her so seriously, as if searching to see if she could handle the information he had to bestow, that her life was going to change.

But it didn't mean that her trust would come easily.

Not after what she had been through.

"Sweetheart," The only silent party of the room finally spoke up, drawing their attentions.

Her eyes darted toward the end of the table, sweeping over the older man. His hair was thinning slightly, but he still had plenty of gray curls on the top of his head, the dark coloring lurking in patches matching the dark color of his eyes. The familiar, dark color of his eyes. His facial hair was mainly gray, but held a tint of red to it. His face was weathered, and a small clear tube rested under his nose, supplying easy oxygen for him. Where Jackson and Clay wore leather vests, his was an obvious denim, though she still took note of the patches sewn upon it, labeling him _'Redwood Original'_ and _'First 9'_...whatever that meant.

It was only as Bella glanced back up into his dark eyes when he cleared his throat, shuffling uncomfortably in his seat, that she began to see it. The similar eyes, the similar mannerisms when confronted with an emotional situation. She sucked in a sharp breath, teeth scraping harshly over her lip as she bit down to keep the flood of tears at bay.

"You're blood, you'll _always_ be family."

* * *

 **-The Secrets We Keep; Review Responses-**

 **-X:** I'm so glad that you like the story enough to be happy that it'll no longer be a one or two shot! And I know, I swear I had to swallow back my own tears after I got done and reread that part. Especially the ending part of the background/flashback scene, gah! Thank you so much for taking the time to review, and your awesome compliment! I'm really hoping to do the Jax/Bella pairing justice, since there are so few stories for them. Which is really a shame, when you think about it. Hope you enjoy this little snippet, and that you keeping coming back for more!  
 **-Redswood Princess:** Aw, I'm happy to hear you're glad it's not just a one-shot! Me too, lol! Gemma and Bella are going to be an interesting duo, I think. And little Jax/Bella is definitely one of my favorite scenes, despite the fact that it was a tough moment in their lives. Not to worry, more Jax will be coming up! Thank you so much for your review, I really appreciate it!  
 **-Mrs Jax Teller:** Eek, thank you so much for your review! You're so right, she's been on the path to Old Lady-dom with Jax since the beginning, lol! I'm hoping you enjoy this newest chapter, and that you continue to enjoy the story as it moves forward! Next chapter, things should really pick up with Bella being reintroduced to SOA and Charming! :D  
 **-Guest #1:** Oh gosh, I know! Jax/Bella is one of my favorite crossover pairings, EVER! And there are so few, which is such a shame! I hope that you enjoy this newest piece of their lives!  
 **-Abel Teller:** Well hiya Abel! I wasn't updating because I lost a bit of my muse for awhile, but she's back and kicking! I adore this pairing as well, Jax/Bella have a serious level of cuteness. Bella and baby Abel will be some of my favorite parts to write, lol. I hope that you enjoy the newest chapter, and that you continue enjoying the story as it moves forward! :D  
 **-Teller's Wifey:** You're so welcome! This pairing is one of my favorites, and there are so few, so I'm glad someone else enjoys it so much! I hope that you like the newest chapter, and that you continue to enjoy the story is it progresses!  
 **-Guest #2:** Aw, thank you! I appreciate the compliment, and I really love a Jax/Bella pairing as well! I hope you remain excited as the story continues!  
 **-Guest #3:** I'm so glad you agree, Bella/Jax is one of my favorite pairings as well! And thank you for both the review, and the compliment! It means so much!  
 **-Guest #4:** Thank you so much for the awesome review and compliment! The story is definitely continuing, promise!  
 **-Guest #5:** I know, this is one of my favorite pairings as well! Not to worry, it's continuing and moving forward!  
 **-Lillip:** I hope you enjoy the newest post! And I hope to provide you with more to read! Thanks for the story love!  
 **-Guest #6:** Your wish is my command! :D  
 **-Guest #7:** Thank you for the review! I hope you enjoy the newest post. And thank you for the story love as well!


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